


Working Out

by grapesicle



Series: Matching Dots [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Gym Sex, M/M, Original Universe, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, i guess that's it, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 20:02:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8547187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapesicle/pseuds/grapesicle
Summary: Mark has never been one of the bulky type and he preached to be truly alright with having lean muscles and thin limbs. It has been like this since ever though anyone could say his concepts have kind of faltered somewhere along the line since he was now standing in the middle of a gym taking in some training lessons from Jackson as both of them worked out together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo this is the first time I'm writing/posting something GOT7 related and I decided to take off with Markson because yeah, they're my main (though Jinson is trying really hard to rise but whatever). I'm sorry for all the typos you might find in here and I really hope whoever reads this like it and have fun while reading it :)

 

 Mark has never been one of the bulky type. Ever since high school, being the skinny boy everyone made fun of by ruthless saying how they could even count how many ribs fitted in his chest through the lack of mass. It wasn’t like Mark has ever done anything, at least something, to change himself out of that aspect either since he was actually alright with the lack of muscles his body shape proportioned. Of course, being constantly teased about looking like a broomstick did hurt and the snickering that came along was really upsetting too, but at some point Mark decided that people were just mean and teenagers were worst.

 They always chased after anything to harass others either to put themselves up or simply out of tradition since school being a living hell for everyone was already an understatement, something close to cruel formality, so Mark didn’t feel like going against the flow and trying to change things, because really, it only worsened things the shit out. High school was supposed to end one day so he just had to be patient. And well, people would still have made fun of him even if he were chubbier or bulkier back then, anyway. Teenagers make fun of everything –except of cheerleaders and captains of soccer teams.

 Being naturally slim has never been a problem in Mark’s perspective; he liked the way his body fitted every piece of cloth he tried himself into without much effort. It was kinda practical, not having to struggle to pass his thighs through some tight jeans, and even though a part of his brain in fact envied how _full_ Jackson’s legs looked in those kinds of fitting garments, he has always told himself that things were the way they were and _damn_ did he also look hot with his chicken legs slipped into them so whatever. Mark has always been one of the resigned type after all, letting things flow and leaving them like that. It wasn’t worth it sweating on it.

 Speaking of both Jackson and sweating Mark blurrily noticed how his aforementioned concepts have kind of faltered somewhere along the line since he was now standing in the middle of a gym taking in some training lessons from Jackson as both of them worked out together. Yeah, maybe he weren’t so firmly resigned with how his body proportions looked like after all.

 Mark was alright with his lean muscles and thin members, he _truly_ was, but that was until the point he decided to join a group where practically three out of seven packed a greatly built body and the other three were actually in the process of reaching the same bulky shape, all of them leaving Mark behind with his skinny frame. Technically, Bambam was even worse than him in that aspect, the boy’s legs similar to chopsticks and body shape resembling one of a thirteen years old kid, but hell was that he also worked out and his muscles were getting firmer and firmer day by day. It didn’t have much to do with Bambam anyway since Mark could’ve found comfort in the fact that the boy was skinner than him and left that alone like he’s always done. It had to do with how Mark envied the way fans screamed the most when the other members showed off their muscular torsos and how he wanted that attention for himself too.

 Mark still didn’t want to become like really bulky or something, those bodybuilders creeping the shit out of him with those giant arms and all, but along the path he traced ever since he joined the group his principles came to a new agreement that it wouldn’t hurt to grow some muscles here and there.

“Tired already?,” Jackson huffed out a laugh as standing from his laying down position on the floor and Mark blinked at him, coming back from his distracted thoughts only to get once again distracted by how Jackson’s damp shirt clutched to his sides. They were doing a set of abdominals on the floor before Mark stood up to hook a water bottle from the shelf and absentmindedly got entangled on his own thoughts about how he ended up there. He hadn’t really noticed he had spaced out until Jackson called him out, breathy voice and crisp laugh catching his attention right away.

 Eyes trailing up to meet Jackson’s expectant ones, Mark shook his head and returned the water bottle he had on grip back to its place, feet swirling around to take him where the other was standing near some equipment. Jackson adjusted the weight lifting on the chest press machine and Mark watched how he then sat calmly on it and laid down, hands holding onto the handles as his back fidgeted against the back pad in search of a comfortable position. Once he was satisfied with the angle of his forearms, Jackson motioned for Mark to follow his movements with his eyes and then begun extending his elbows, muscles flexing and skin flushing due to the effort. Rather than watching Jackson now, Mark bluntly stared.

 It’s been a couple of months since Mark has asked Jackson to work out together and he still couldn’t shake the amused look which bloomed on the other’s face when he did from his memory. Above feeling surprised, Jackson looked also thrilled by the request and before Mark could in fact rethink the whole thing, the guy was already beaming around the gym and introducing the equipment to him one by one. The question was there, lingering on the tip of Jackson’s tongue whenever he darted it out to moist his full lips in between his pauses of speech, but it never came out and Mark supposed Jackson was just holding himself back in fear of clicking something with his enquiry about why Mark suddenly changed his mind about building muscles and making him back away from it. Smart, Mark had to admit, because the moment Jackson asked the motives behind his change Mark would be forced to take it all back and storm out of the gym before his traitorous mouth ended up ruining everything by spitting out how it was all due to Jackson’s influence over him. That would have been disastrous, so Mark was really glad Jackson had the senses not to ask straight away (like it was obvious he wanted to do).

 If Mark now wanted to grow some muscles and bulk up a little bit, Jackson indubitably was his role model. Even before his mind had snapped and his brain had gone all oh yeah it’d be nice packing some muscles and stuff, Mark had already gotten an eye on how strong Jackson’s arms are and how his torso looked firm and well built. It was practically impossible not to become aware of such things when the two of them lived under the same roof and were met with each other’s faces at every turn of head. And damn it if it weren’t even worse when Mark’s been nourishing the hell of a crush on the guy ever since they were trainees and practiced choreographies together until late at night. At this rate Mark’s become aware of nearly everything related to Jackson and his personality, antics and nervous twitches, but the subject in point is his physics so the rest was of less prior.

 Nevertheless, Jackson’s vigorous body attracted a lot of attention from fans and so Mark wanted to have a taste of how it felt to be that fierce. Having a taste of that body itself didn’t seem less appealing though, but that would be crossing too many lines and Mark congratulated himself for having a firm grip on his own shit.

 Mark was still staring down at Jackson when the latter finished his set and pushed the handles back to the initial position so to squirm his way out the machine, sweat glistening the tan skin of his biceps and collarbones, making it look so moist Mark’s mouth went momentary dry. One hand stretching to the side and then Mark was uncapping his water bottle one more time to drink from it as though he hasn’t just gulped down half of it a few minutes ago. Wide was the shape of his brown, dotted red iris eyes when Jackson fished the water bottle from his hand before he could go further than clasping his lips together around the border, the guy drinking from it right away without leaving space for Mark to even process what he was doing.

“Your turn now, one set from a sequence of ten, and then we switch again.” Jackson instructed after wiping the corners of his mouth with the back of his right hand, the left one moving blindly beside them to put the bottle back on the shelf. Mark blinked sheepishly a few times and gulped down, moving forward to sit on the machine as trying not to focus too much on how Jackson was leaning above him to check upon something on the surface of the equipment.

“Are we doing another equipment after this one?,” Mark found himself asking only out of the necessity of keeping some small talk to distract himself from thinking too much. Things didn’t do very well when he thought too much. The clunk of metal sliding against metal which reverberated through the room when Jackson pulled the superior handle back and forward to find a better angle for the exercise got Mark jumping almost imperceptibly underneath, lips pursing as the man hovering above him took a step back and looked thoughtful for a moment before shrugging and nodding in unison, answering through gestures that it was up to Mark whether he wanted to. “Then we’re done after this one, I don’t want to go all sore to the broadcast tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow we have what, radio and fan signing?,” there was a blank look on Jackson’s face as he watched Mark breathing in and out deeply while working his arms out, and Mark glanced up at him, hands stirring around the handles as his eyes caught the way that broad and well built chest heaved up and down midst trying to regain its normal breathing rhythm. If people already found Jackson awestruck attractive under normal circumstances then they really should see him all flushed red and sticky with sweat after a working out session. It was indeed a sight, and sometimes Mark wondered if watching Jackson panting and moaning softly while stretching his muscles every day in the gym hasn’t been, in fact, his utter motive for requesting specifically Jackson’s help in that matter.

 Mark faced the ceiling once again. “There’s no fan signing tomorrow,” the machine made a brisk sound similar to the one Jackson caused when maneuvering the handles moments before and Mark dragged the bars down slower, the sound turning smooth once again, “only radio in the afternoon. Jinyoung said something about doing a livestream at evening but I’m not sure ‘bout that.”

“Then why are you worrying about being sore from now? We’ll be only having to go out in the afternoon.”

“Well, maybe because I’m not as used to working out as you therefore my body we’ll be all wobbly and worn out the moment I wake up tomorrow if we keep on like this?”

 Jackson snickered, pulling an exaggerated hurt face at him as though Mark had just been too snarky with his remark and then helping his trembling arms to rest the bars back onto the hook. Mark rolled his eyes at the overreaction. He stood there for a few more moments feeling the rattling muscles under his flesh itch and mentally willing them to calm down from the rush of adrenaline fed by the lifting. Of course his arms were perceptively bigger and stronger than before now with all the muscle training and stuff, but it was still hard for him to keep up with the weight range Jackson was already used to lifting and had been forcing him to try out for a couple of weeks already. “C’mon, you’ve been doing this with me for over four months now, you’re way used to it already.”

“I’m used to lifting lighter weights, and not the ones that feel like I’m lifting up a car with my bare arms instead.”

“Stop being such a whiny baby.”

“Eat me.” Mark shot between a laugh, the words rolling on his tongue and leaving a strange taste on his mouth since his mind quickly linked those words to another possible meaning, a filthier (and more interesting) one. He finally stood up from the chest press machine and heaved a sigh, his whole body still prickling in a tickling way from the exercise he had just done. Jackson shove at his shoulder playfully, hand getting sticky from Mark’s sated skin, and he made sure to feign another exaggerated reaction of disgust at it by wiping his hand on his own sweaty shirt instead, only to be rewarded with Mark sticking close in a swift move and trying to brush their dirty skins together again in punishment.

 After a while Mark gave up on his task of disturbing Jackson and stood there beside the equipments as the younger giggled lively at their behavior. The sweat was soon becoming a bother though, his skin producing layers over layers of sheer perspiration while burning hot in contrast with the gym air-conditioner which kept ventilating some chill air around the room, so Mark searched for a towel with his eyes, wandering them around, and opting for using his own shirt to clean himself up a bit once he found none towels in sight. Racking his shirt upwards to wipe at the sweat on his face, Mark missed they way Jackson’s giggles faded and his expression turned into one of plain lines, eyes taking in the sight of Mark’s torso contracting eventually as he rubbed at his closed eyes with the edges of his crumpled cloth. Jackson stared at the other’s frame, fists clenching by his sides, but when Mark pulled his shirt down again he was welcomed by Jackson’s back facing him as the younger had crouched on the floor to fiddle with some weights lying in there.

“Are you still taking supplements?” A voice coming from low took Mark by surprise and he had to wait a few seconds for the question to settle in so his brain could actually understand that it was being directed to him and that it demanded a response, tongue darting out to lick at the surface of his lips as he tried to gain time and formulate something to reply to that.

“Supplements?,” was the most he managed to come up with within thirty seconds, hand roaming through the wet locks of his newly dyed black hair, and Jackson glanced up at him before nodding his head and humming along the action. Mark thought about it for a moment, mainly wondering why that was being brought up all of a sudden but ultimately convincing himself that it was in fact something natural to be asked since they were working out together and supplements boasted up the results of the training and stuff. It was quite a reasonable question, really. Awkward was how Mark felt a cold chill on his spine by being asked such thing.

“Yeah, y’know, proteins, vitamins, these stuff. Jinyoung has been teasing you a lot about it lately. Are you still taking them?” Jackson complemented after a few seconds being dragged in silence, taking Mark’s lack of response as a signal that he hasn’t properly understood what Jackson was talking about. But Mark had understood the first time, and now he was feeling even more confused with the mention of Jinyoung in all that though he was sure he shouldn’t be feeling so odd about it. Jinyoung’s been taking proteins as well as working out a lot too. It was probably why Jackson was bringing him to the topic. It made sense.

 Scratching one arm, Mark shrugged. “Hmm, kind of. I stopped taking them a few days ago but I’m slowly making my way back to it.”

“Oh ok, so that’s why.” A nod came along those lines Mark didn’t quite catch the meaning of, and then Jackson was back on his feet smiling plainly at him before heading to the chest press machine one more time to go through another set of weight-lifting. Trailing behind with a soft frown wrinkling his features, Mark stood by the equipment edges and watched Jackson fixing himself neatly underneath the solid structure, Mark’s body then leaning over the bars Jackson had just carved out of the hook and arms going to rest above them, bluntly supporting the weight of his upper body over the shafts and causing Jackson to groan slightly at the undeniable adding of heaviness. “Fuck off, s’heavy.”

“That’s why, what? Is it that notable I’m back at taking proteins?”

“Not quite.” Jackson huffed, glaring at how Mark hasn’t moved his body away from the machine yet, receiving an amused giggle from the latter as he noticed it. “Your body looks thicker, so I wondered.”

“Thicker? Thicker as in the good way or bad way?”

“Good. It seems to have more mass now and I wondered if it’s whether to proteins or you just… _grew,_ y’know, by yourself.” Mark frowned a bit deeper at that and Jackson glanced up at him from his lying position over the pad, countenance contorting interestingly at each flexing of his arms, taking in the sight of Mark’s eyes staring back at him. Once he finished his second set he felt lighter, feeling only rushing through his veins when he slipped away from under the bars and escaped Mark’s gaze, the burn of that thoughtful look still lingering on the back of his head and digging a hole into it as he started walking away from that corner.

“You mean I grew fat, is that it?,” Mark then asked, the thought of him growing fatter settling oddly in his stomach since he’s been used to people calling him skinny and not the very opposite of that word. _Growing_ was definitely the word to use if Mark wanted to describe his goals, the motive behind all that training and working up being really that, growing; but well, he’d actually hoped to grow stronger and not… fatter.

“No , not fat, just— Your body is in a really good shape. I said it has more mass but I didn’t mean the flaccid kind of one, I meant it looks firmer, fiercer, and more defined than before. It’s thicker. It’s growing really nice. Your muscles, I mean. Your muscles are growing nice.”

 The soft flush which crept all the way up Jackson’s neck until it colored the top of his ears and cheekbones could’ve passed unnoticed since it was really very soft for untrained eyes to catch, but Mark’s eyes were trained and they were even sharper when it came to Jackson, and so Mark blinked a few times at how he found his breath faltering at that suave display of blush. Though he didn’t know why Jackson was blushing. Well, of course he had an idea of why was it, but straightforwardly thinking that Jackson was embarrassed just by speaking out loud about how Mark’s body has improved so far seemed too out of place. Jackson wasn’t someone to get embarrassed that easily, neither for something as _trivial_ as talking about Mark’s boasting muscles.

 Either way, Jackson did own an adorable shade of pale pink brushed over the right places one who were suffering from some troublesome embarrassment would, and this time he was looking directly at Mark with those doe eyes that got him feeling lost and found at the same time. Mark stared back for a couple of seconds and he was sure his mouth opened as to speak before he was cut by Jackson raising his hands as though to shield himself from some possible curse Mark were about to yell at him, mouth moving faster as to once again try to get his butt out of the fronting line, “I really wasn’t calling you fat.”

“Chill, Jacks, I understood,” the sound of Mark’s pitched chuckle seemed to be enough to put the younger at ease, Jackson letting his hand reach up to dab at some dripping sweat threatening to slide down his forehead, arms resting on his sides once he was done and face lighting up with relief, “and thanks for saying my body is awesome anyway, it’s really kind of you to say.”

 Saucers were round dishes commonly used to hold a cup, and Jackson’s eyes really resembled the shape of them when he widened those deep orbs in surprise. A bitten smile trying to stretch his red lips further, Mark watched how the other slowly recomposed himself and begun holding another overly affected reaction by placing one hand over his chest and another across his stomach to support his other elbow, feigning being outright scandalized. “Excuse me, tell me where I said your body is amazing. Tell me where.”

“Excuse you indeed, you just said my body is in really good shape and my muscles are growing nice.”

“Never once have I used the word ‘amazing’ though.”

“It’s the freaking same, just assume you like what you see.” Mark deadpanned with a wicked grin, racking his shirt up to expose his torso for emphasis and regretting it barely a second later once the look on Jackson’s eyes changed and he actually looked down to stare at the display of lean muscles. Something shifted in the room and it may have been Mark, oddly lowering down his hand and shirt as trying to chuckle away the suddenly awkward mood that dropped in the gym, too immersed in pretending that nothing has changed to bring his mind to notice how Jackson was taking slow steps closer with a meek smile plastered on his recently moistened lips, smile that didn’t quite match the dense glint on his eyes.

“Pull it up again then, let me see it properly.” And then Jackson was reaching for Mark’s shirt and grabbing at its hem so he could lift it up himself, the back of his fingers brushing against the heated flesh of Mark’s toned abdomen in the process, knuckles sliding smoothly over the sweaty skin until Mark could grab at the shirt too so to try pulling it back down in defense. Jackson snickered, finding amusement in the way Mark nervously shimmied back every time they touched. “C’monnnn, let me see it. I can’t judge your muscles with all my honesty if I don’t take a very good look at it, now strip for me.”

“The hell I’m asking you to judge anything, you ass, I’m asking you to be honest to yourself and admit you like my body—and what is this _strip for me_ about, I’m suing you now.” A few breathed giggles fell from Mark’s mouth and he tried to push the other’s hands away from him between them, effectively detouring his thoughts from how ticklish Jackson’s touches felt and how close the man’s fingers were from accidentally brushing on his nipple as they fought with his shirt crumpled around his chest.

 Jackson screeched a laugh, elated at Mark’s kind of behavior, but there was still something heavy filling his almond eyes when they locked on the pair of Mark’s pliant ones which stared back at him in anticipation. A twinkling rivulet of sweat rolled down the back of his spine, probably derived from the work out session he had just had, and Jackson had to convince himself that the shiver he felt prickling his body was due to such thing instead of being evoked by the recently discovered fact that Mark was actually _anticipating_ something from him out of that childish wrestling over a shirt they were having. Well, that wasn’t entirely childish since Jackson kept finding some delight in the way Mark’s heat seemed to burn his fingers whenever they touched from under the shirt, but whatever.

  Neither of them was really aware of how much time they spent just being effortlessly extra like that, but when things finally reached an end it were the sounds of their breathless laughs that filled the room. Of course it didn’t last long until Mark noticed how he had somehow stumbled back during their fiddling about and ended up seated on the pad of the chest press machine with Jackson over him, their laughter quieting down to silence. Mark leaned himself back on his arms, trying to make room between his and Jackson’s body since the guy was (rather awkwardly) straddling his legs against the machine, and so he drank in the scene they currently were, taking mental notes of how Jackson also seemed to be aware of the tension between them as the minutes dragged on and on. Neither of them did something to change their positions —or the dampening mood—, though. They simply stood there and _waited_ , for what neither did know.

 Mark has first got his heart fluttering yet squeezing on his chest for Jackson a long time ago, the episode taking place during one of their first New Year’s together where they shared dreams, fears and secrets under the safe shelter of their practice room in their company’s building. There have been a lot subjects for them to go through and hell did they go through them all, staying up all night after watching the fireworks exploding in blinding dots of twinkling lights in contrast with the dark sky every now and then. It was difficult to remember the very one thing that caused the first sparkle in Mark to fall for Jackson, because really, it may have just been an appeasing combination of all those moments squished together, but there has been definitely something that ignited it, Mark soon finding it absurdly impossible not to go deeper and deeper in love with the other.

 Of course there were things Mark _hated_ in Jackson, his overly humble persona being by far one of them. Jackson has always been like that, though; taking care of everyone else and making sure they were alright, putting them above himself and worrying over them instead of himself. It was such a special and admirable side of his personality, Mark has always thought that, worth or every praises in the world. But Mark has also thought that it was the most upsetting and idiot part of him. Upsetting because there were people who cared about him as well, people who wanted to see him fine and living happily, people who always grew frustrated when he appeared sick out of overworking himself by neglecting his own health. People like Mark, and a hundred –thousand– bunch of other people around the world. And idiot because, well, how could Jackson just not notice that by not taking care of himself he also hurt the ones he struggled so bad to take care of? That didn’t make sense, it was a contradictory stupidity Jackson insisted on carrying on, and that’s why that was one of the things Mark most hated on him, the word _hate_ even so looking too harsh to be used. Strangely being one of those he dearly loved too. It was safe to say Mark loved even the things he disliked in Jackson. Yep, maybe Mark was really screwed up by the other guy by now.

 Some say that having a one-sided love is better than having none, but like half a loaf of bread, it’s likely to grow hard and moldy sooner, or so that’s what Mark could remember of these vague statements he read in this book he couldn’t really recall the name right now. For some time he has been skeptical about it, mind stubborn in believing that not having to bother over nourishing feelings towards someone and not being reciprocated was way better than going through this living hell of depression and self-pity. But after knowing Jackson, Mark couldn’t help thinking that _yeah_ , he wouldn’t trade the grace of loving Jackson for absolutely nothing. Only the thought of it pulled strings at his heart and so he knew that what he felt was real. And maybe sickeningly cheesy. Whatever.

 Once he has heard that the main object of unrequited loves usually tended to be a friend or acquaintance of the person, someone they regularly encountered in the workplace, or during other activities involving large groups of people, and fuck that did was true because the shit basically described Mark’s situation with Jackson, both living under the same roof besides working together every hell of day. He’s also heard how that kind of situation created an awkward environment in which difficulty in expressing true feelings were involved due to fears of suffering rejections or going through further embarrassments once the revelation was done. That hasn’t really been Mark’s case, at least not entirely; his fears laying mostly in how the group dynamic would be damaged in case something went wrong. Even though Mark carried deep, enthralling feelings for Jackson, he’s always been taught to care about the group first and consider it as major priority, so his feelings had to be suppressed and Mark had to deal with it. Good thing he’s always claimed himself to be quite resigned about things in general. Bad thing that hasn’t really been true.

 All in all, Mark’s been putting up with it really majestically, locking in his urges and desires to caress or just pet his younger friend for the best of their career, and everything was actually carrying on admirably. But now with Jackson’s thighs pressing against his own as they stared back and forth in mild awe, Mark was starting to doubt whether things would keep up going that well from this point onwards.

“It tickles.” Mark heard himself saying then, and he really just spitted out the first thing he thought, not paying much attention to how dry his mouth was feeling all of a sudden. Jackson seemed to snap at his voice but his reaction was calm and slow as though he was in a trance, eyes sliding over Mark’s features with excessive cautious until they trailed down to where his hands disappeared from vision, tucked inside Mark’s shirt and absently resting above the latter’s ribs.

“Oh,” was the answer Mark got but Jackson’s hands remained in place, feeling the strain of his muscles every time he breathed in and out, palms flat over his warm skin to either absorb its heat or make it worse. Jackson looked up and Mark had to purse his lips when soft fingers pressed harder over the planes of his abdomen, eyebrows knitting together as he regarded the other with his best reprehensive yet kinda condescending look.

 Jackson had this annoying habit of making things way more difficult for Mark by suddenly initiating some unruffled contact between them since Jackson has proved many times already how fond of skinship he was, but Mark couldn’t really bring it in himself to turn down those blunt requests of warm attention (and maybe even a bit of cuddling) Jackson often struck him with. And it was poisoning, being so close of Jackson with the constant reminder of how they could never be something more than friends for the better of the group thumping heavily in his chest, even so Mark couldn’t also bring himself to step out of it. Jackson made him feel good, his ticklish touches made Mark beam with suffocating happiness whenever they got lost in their jovial playing and ended up entangled on the floor laughing together, and hell Mark did was ok with enjoying it even for as much as he was allowed to. Such a sadist as it seemed.

 There were times when Mark considered throwing everything out the window and just running away with Jackson, group forgotten in the past where he denied himself some selfish thinking as to prioritize his feelings over the harmonic consistence of their group. Of course he would feel like shit and regret even thinking about such thing a moment later, heart clutching inside. Mark had grown to love the group he came to be a part of, feeding strong feelings of either brotherhood or infatuated love for all the six of them, and even though Mark really wanted to give up on holding himself back and being true with what he felt towards Jackson, the group had grown to be his second family through the time and it was impossible to choose between the two of them without feeling like dying. Therefore, the only path Mark had some safety in walking through was the one where he suffered alone and his mind reached close to having a breakdown at any given moment. At least in this path he and his friends were still attached together by their hips and the group dynamic worked as perfectly as ever.

“Mark,” Jackson called, voice so soft and pliant Mark felt like crying for some heck of reason neither his brain could actually match the dots of. Looking back at Jackson right now hinted to be the wrong choice, the guy’s body leverage from above his lap creating such a perilous kind of angle for that pair of plump lips to be seen that Mark opted for gluing his eyes on the broad span of Jackson’s shoulders, sharp collarbones greeting his evasive gaze and proving how that one had been the wrong choice as well. “Mark, look at me.”

“Why?” Mark nearly stuttered since fucking Jackson shifted on the spot over his thighs and right at that moment he swore to god he felt the other’s chest shake with a chuckle.

“Because I have something to tell you and I want you to pay attention.”

“I’m paying attention, go ahead.”

“Mark,” this time Jackson whined, sound rumbling Mark’s skin, “C’mon. Are you this enchanted by my collarbone to not even look at me in the eyes? My eyes may be a bit too big and all but just look at them for a moment.”

 The gasp which got stuck on Mark’s throat luckily didn’t leave hints of having been trying to break through his mouth after he listened to those words so he looked quite composed when raising his head to watch Jackson grinning down at him. Their bodies were still hyperventilating due to the latest working out session, damp clothes slowly drying around their limbs, warmth emanating through the layers of cloth. Mark tried to find a better position than leaning back on his arms over the pad of the machine with a fierce body pressing him down, but there weren’t many choices for him in that aspect and the few ones quickly vanished from the possibilities he could take once Jackson bounced softly against his thighs as to pull himself upper, their crotches barely brushing together along the motion.

 Closing his eyes and opening them again a few times, that’s what Mark believed to be the best reaction of unamusement he could make an use of midst such intimate friction. It probably didn’t mean anything for Jackson anyway, grinding friends and stuff. “Say what you wanted to say now, I’m looking at you.”

“You’re looking but you’re not quite _seeing_ , are you?”

 Mark frowned and his face scrunched up a bit as he grimaced, not really catching what Jackson was clearly trying to transmit with that word play between ‘looking’ and ‘seeing’.  “What? Of course I’m seeing you.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“So what did you mean, Jackson? Stop beating around the bush already, I want to take a shower, I’m all sweaty and gross.”

“I meant this.” Jackson’s voice dropped and so did Mark’s stomach as he watched in awe how the younger swept in, hand moving to clutch at the back of Mark’s head and pull their heads together, adjusting his position as he hunchbacked very slightly so their faces were at the same level. Mark’s features turned ashen, every trace of color draining from them only to come back into an angry shade of red ruled by embarrassment that got him squirming and trying to slip away from the settling grip Jackson held on him. Fingers entangled on his auburn hair instead, keeping him in place, and Jackson’s other hand reached up from its previous spot under Mark’s shirt to grasp at his shoulder for support.

 Mark gasped in a deprivement of sound and his hands automatically snapped up to hold onto Jackson’s sides, either to push him away or pull him closer he wasn’t really sure. In the end he opted to just keep them there in lack of something smarter to do. “Leggo—Jackson, what—”

“I mean this, hyung. I’ve always meant it.” And so Jackson was leaning in some more, the sharp dip of his larynx briefly coming into Mark’s sight as Jackson swallowed and the roughness of his mouth missing Mark’s full lips amidst his clumsy eagerness, brushing instead on the very corners of their joint. Mark tried to fight the inevitable for a few moments, head turning as he attempted to block Jackson’s advances, but it didn’t take long for his body to go pliant under the other guy’s grasp and his eyes to snap shut as their mouths met in full.

 Confused. That’s how Mark felt as Jackson pressed their lips together — not really moving or hinting doing so, just chastely pressing. They remained like that for a few heartbeats, breathing in each other’s spaces and reveling at the sensation of having warm gusts of breath softly tickling their cheeks. It felt nice, Mark wouldn’t lie, but it also felt so out of context that his stomach twirled upside down in nervousness. Experimenting, if there was a word which could properly describe that moment then experimenting it was. But not experimenting how it felt to kiss another guy or something related to this gay-straight complex people often intended to have (because really, Mark was already too gone from that mark and he had a strong inkling Jackson was too), and yes how it felt to be together, how it felt to be that close from each other after so much time stuck at wondering what ifs. Mark pressed his lips further against Jackson’s ones and while the latter responded by tightening his grip on the still sweaty-wet locks of black hair, Mark ultimately decided that _yeah,_ it felt just right. Confusing as to why Jackson was going that far with him out of fucking nowhere, but extremely right nonetheless.

 Mark could well recollect the first time he wondered how it’d feel like to kiss Jackson for real, not having to grasp onto fanciful hopes as they shared empty pecks here and there to please the fans or complete some stupid dare another member had proposed them while being a bunch of drunk dudes at Saturday nights. It was again back to their trainee times and Mark wanted to snort at how most of his first desires towards Jackson had blossomed out of their old memories grounds. They had been talking about how difficult it was and how hopeful of a brighter future they were when Jackson did something with his mouth, maybe it was licking his lips wet during one pause at his speech or biting down on the lower one as considering his next words, Mark wasn’t sure, but it had attracted his attention to the other’s pinkish mouth and he wondered. Mark may have been already in love with Jackson at that time, not that it had much influence in the fact that Jackson owned some strikingly-kissable-looking-like lips. And ever since then Mark couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how it’d be.

 Well, Mark has thought of many things about that subject, really _many_ things, but nothing compared to the real feeling of having Jackson prodding at his lips to get them open, slowly —almost hesitantly— slipping his way inside to waltz their tongues together. There was a moist, clicking noise coming from the way their mouths slid slickly in contrast with the dryness of their stale breath and Mark filed in his memory the guttural noise which reverberated through Jackson’s chest as Mark nibbled at his lower lip to idly pull it with his teeth. It was such a beautiful noise, breathless and keen; static buzz reaching his ears right away since his mind practically combusted in delight and his brain and body went out of syntony.

 Sheen of sweat glimmered Jackson’s skin once Mark pulled away and opened his eyes lazily, overwhelmed by the sensations that kiss had washed him with, and his stare left the blurry view of the other’s pointy nose to focus on those long eyelashes cornering Jackson’s deep and seemingly in a daze eyes. Mark wondered if his own eyes looked that hazy as well but words didn’t leave his mouth. Instead he awaited Jackson’s eyes to open too, heaving a breath that could easily be taken as a pant when the pair of deep brown pools fluttered open just a moment later. Their eyes locked, and time slowed down to a halt.

“I don’t understand,” as he tried to speak at least coherently his eyes slipped shut and then sprang open again, mind still dizzy from Jackson’s closeness and senses growing amused at how the hand which previously clutched his nape has now slid down his neck to tug at the shaped collar of his shirt. Jackson wore an expectant look and Mark couldn’t help but gulp under the weight of it. “Never have I noticed you could possibly— you never gave me even a single clue, I… what is this? What are you doing? Are you ill?”

“I just shove my tongue into your mouth and you ask me if I’m ill, Mark, what the fuck,” Jackson chuckled wholeheartedly, laugh screechy and deprived of any menace Mark had been unconsciously trying to point out. “Me kissing you can only mean I’m suffering from some sickness, is that so?”

“That’s not what I meant, you shit,” the blush which kept tainting Mark’s face and ears was so bright and open that Jackson couldn’t help finding it adorable, fingers reaching for one of those heated cheeks to steal a pinch. Mark grimaced and slapped Jackson’s hand away right after in embarrassment, Jackson then dutifully giggling at that, “It’s just that I never noticed you fed such kind of feelings towards me, I mean, feelings like thinking about me in such… _deep_ way, and I honestly never thought you could possibly do it someday. It’s kinda… shocking?”

“That’s what I meant when I said you were looking at me but not really seeing me in the way you should.”

 Mark took that in thought for a while but his line of thinking went dead as soon as he felt a pair of wet lips joining his one more time, the fluttering touch deriving one of butterflies flapping their wings inside Mark’s stomach. This time he brought his hands to hold on Jackson’s waist as they kissed, palms cautiously travelling up and down the curvy expanse, thumbs rubbing on pelvic bones through layers of humid shirt and basketball shorts waistband all along. Jackson would sigh at the continuous caresses whenever their mouths disconnected so they could poorly breathe for brief moments before they were once again all tongues and teeth, and Mark felt how the younger had sneaked arms around his neck to bring their bodies closer and so was slowly (but very perceptively) grinding down on him, crotches only a few inches from fully rocking together in motion. Mark hummed in the back of his throat then, profoundly cherishing the thrills that echoed through his limbs as Jackson huffed out a breathy and obviously affected chuckle against his partially opened lips in response.

 Belatedly, kinda blurrily, Mark realized how their positions have been changing during their make out session and when he gripped tighter on Jackson’s waist to still his movements and pull away, his mind became aware of how he was almost totally laid down over the pad with the other guy hovering on top of him, shoulder blades pressed against the steel shafts which supported the weight bars of the chest press machine and head dropping back over the top of an horizontal stick, eyes heavy as he half opened them to regard Jackson’s disheveled appearance. Fuck it if Jackson’s flushed cheeks and spit-slick lips weren’t the most deadly gorgeous view Mark has ever witnessed in his whole damn life. The man was so effortlessly ethereal that Mark felt like praying, just for the sake of doing so.

“This shit is hurting my back,” he mumbled sluggishly, voice numb and dropped due to the crescent agitation of his hormones. Jackson looked confused for a moment, eyebrows knitting together as he frowned very subtly, but his face soon became one of realization once his pair of beautiful eyes shifted from Mark’s mouth to focus on the firm structure behind his back, a soft sneer blooming on his lips as he turned to look down at Mark once again.

“Wow, how sexy of you to say so,” watching the way Mark rolled his eyes in fake annoyance at the sarcastic remark spilled, Jackson leaned in further down to mouth at his neck as continuing his speech against the transpiring skin, “if we’re speaking about body parts hurting should I tell you about what part of me is currently _aching_ too? I’m giving you a hint, it isn’t my back but it also ends with a ‘-ck’.”

“Neck.” If Mark weren’t so focused on the dampness of Jackson’s mouth dragging slickly over the expanse of his neck he could have properly noticed how those pouty lips had quickly turned into a grin against his skin once his witty reply struck in. Mark has only been fully aware of it after a few moments blinking away the dizziness that touch of Jackson’s tongue caused, throat shaking with weak giggles now, though he was faithful the strong shiver that rattled across his spine as Jackson leaned back to blow him off with that one dazzling grin would still have been the same if through earlier awareness.

 Mark’s back still stung with each press of his shoulder blades against the cold shafts of the machine but he ultimately decided that well, he could endure that shit if it meant he could keep Jackson both seated on his lap and leaned over his chest for a tad longer.

 Jackson had one hand clutched around the wide streak peeking from behind Mark’s back to support his own weight when his hips leapt into action, crotch dragging along the shape of Mark’s dick from above their equally thin shorts. As Mark dutifully gritted his teeth to restrain a shameful moan to break through his mouth, Jackson didn’t really seem to think just as much about being vocal since the breathy and rather horny noise which left his lips during the happening was even filthier than whatever sound Mark had been fearful to release. It felt like a dose of stamina being administrated straight to his groin, sensation actually very similar to having shot after shot while in a dope party because damn Mark did feel drunk and hazy and dizzy only by having Jackson grinding them dirtily. And hell it felt _intoxicating_.

 Words of caution blinked red behind his shut close eyes not once, not twice, but several times already along that steamy foreplay yet the most Mark could make his brain read from them was that _wow_ Jackson promised to ride a dick good if those moves from his hips were something to go by. Though he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted Jackson to ride him or all the way around yet. Maybe both, who knew.

 But his subconscious was well aware of those warning words, well enough to know they were all about what would be of their group if Mark allowed things to keep going down that path. All this time he’s been ensuring that the group dynamic remained untainted, their bond together meant to remain unbreakable and popularity to keep riding up the path of glory without much harm. And letting Jackson suck at his collarbones until it bruised and bounce fiercely over his cock didn’t seem very prosper in that aspect. Yet Mark couldn’t bring himself to stop, no; not when he was finally getting what he’s been fantasizing about for more than years now. It felt as though he’d be being ungrateful if he did. So he didn’t.

 Guilt left a bitter taste to linger on his mouth but Mark was easily distracted from it once Jackson began urging his sweaty shirt out for the second time that day, arms slowly going up as to help the other man take the piece of cloth off this time. Jackson drank in the sight of Mark (whose shirt got discharged on the floor as soon as it left the lean broadness of his thorax) lying bare-chested underneath him, a coy smile pulling at the corners of his mouth when he flicked his eyes upwards only to be welcomed by the intense stare Mark was watching him with. Hands started roaming over the newly exposed skin, the touch insecure and treacly smeared with uncertain cautious at first as though Jackson waited Mark to push him away if he pressed his fingers too firmly over the toned six-pack. But Mark didn’t push him away, and so Jackson became bolder, fingers reaching for the waistband of Mark’s basketball shorts to hook around the thin layer and tug at it suggestively, blunt nails grazing the skin underneath and cloudy mind marveling at how inviting and equally wanting Mark was once responding to that hint by subtly arching his back as his body unconsciously squirmed in delight.

“You really never noticed?,” Jackson asked softly and Mark blinked up at him for a few moments before his brain managed to catch what that phrase was being referred to. Mark shook his head, eyes trailing down Jackson’s jaw to lock at the dip of his glimmer neck, unaware of how his own shorts were already being pushed past his middle thighs as they spoke. “Anything at all? I always made myself so obvious…”

“You made yourself _obvious_ with everyone, Jackson, that’s why I didn’t think my share was somehow different from the ones derived from your usual teasing.”

 Jackson chuckled. “Oh, shuttup. With you it’s been always different.”

“How so?”

“Well I’ve never asked anyone else to help me shaving in the shower under the excuse I couldn’t properly reach _there_ myself with the razor.” Jackson blurted out in a very relaxed way, snickering loudly at the way Mark turned a bright shade of red and started squirming between his legs in embarrassment, a pitchy groan ripping off his throat after he had promptly covered most of his burning face behind his hands. “I’m serious, like— of course I could perfectly reach everywhere down there myself, it was just about raising my leg and angling my hand in between—”

“Jackson,” Mark groaned again, this time borderline pleadingly, the reminisce of those moments where he had helped Jackson shaving in the shower flashing in front of his closed eyes only to provoke some maddening spikes of yearning to thump low on his stomach. He couldn’t believe he had been so naive as not to notice how Jackson could’ve perfectly managed to shave himself alone if he really wanted to. Maybe it was the euphoria of being so intimate to Jackson under the flow of hot water that blinded him. Maybe it was the way Jackson looked so grateful despite the obvious look of restrained desire Mark wore when they were done. Whatever.

 Mark felt his wrists being held and struggled weakly against Jackson’s grip when the man tried to push his hands away from his blushing face, Jackson eventually managing to do so and instantly greeting a shameful Mark with the most brilliant grin he owned once their eyes locked. “And I’ve never told my worries or ranted about my hardships to anyone other than you. Not even once. You’re the one I always chose to go to.”

 There was a painful flutter in his heart, one heartbeat going missing within the frenzy rhythm composed by a whole bunch of frenetic ones by each second. Mark’s face was blank, a visible contrast with how full of shy emotions it’s been a minute ago, but Jackson seemed able to read something else —something _more_ — from his conflicting features if the adoring look shining on his eyes was something to go by. Mark wanted to believe in that, actually he kind of truly did, but the consequences of him accepting Jackson’s confession still weighted heavy on his conscience. They’d be affecting the whole group if something went wrong, they’d be breaking the comfortable balance the seven of them had if Mark and Jackson fought over something people who were together unhelpfully tended to do one time or another, they’d be chasing away the dreams their group friends have been nourishing for so long if their career came to a halt when people found out about that whole gay issue no one really wanted to even consider being a thing. There were so many horrible things to happen to all the seven of them if Mark finally accepted Jackson’s and his own feelings, and so Mark feared, hesitated, sulked.

 But Jackson’s eyes were so sincere as Mark watched himself reflected in those dark brown pools that the older guy felt his chest tighten only by the thought of declining those meaningful feelings and never giving them a chance. Mark knew it was probably wrong but he couldn’t just let Jackson go, he couldn’t tell him ‘no’ when all he’s ever wanted was for this to happen. Mark wanted to tell him ‘yes’, and this desire of being by Jackson’s side proved to be bigger than the fear of messing the whole shit up with the group. So Mark reached forward, hand cupping Jackson’s cheek as he regarded the other with eyes full of emotion, and the next thing he knew was that he was leaning up to kiss those pink lips again.

 They kissed for a lifetime, both transmitting feelings through meek caresses and sliding of lips, Mark noticing how he had been somehow left on his black boxers only when they pulled away and Jackson’s fingers ghosted over the exposed skin haphazardly. He looked between them where Jackson’s touches were dangerously approaching his clothed dick and a whine got stuck on his throat as he regarded the shameful bulge that has built up hard through their make out. Jackson followed his line of sight with mere seconds of delay, a shit-eating grin pulling at his mouth when his head snapped up to watch Mark suck his lips into his mouth in a restless movement.

“Oh, yes, your thighs are much fiercer than before indeed,” the younger man purred, mirth dropping from his words as he spoke, hand carrying promises as it dragged across the edges of Mark’s inner thigh, “the muscle is much more defined too. Working out is really doing you great, hyung.”

“Shuttup,” Mark hiccupped once Jackson palmed his crotch through silky layers of black cloth, mind stuttering and mildly reveling at the marvelous feeling of being finally touched. The straining material of his boxers hinted how plain eager for the touch to deepen he already was, and so Jackson demurely increased the pressure of his fingers over the pulsing shaft, moving them up and down lazily, tugging occasionally. Mark’s mouth gasped open in a silent moan as the friction on his dick became more and more pleasurable with each tug, eyebrows furrowing and eyes snapped shut, but he still found it in himself to notice the butterfly kisses Jackson began distributing all over his neck. His hand clutched around the wet shirt Jackson was still wearing and once his head dropped slightly to the side, Mark managed to whisper out a few slurred words against the other guy’s cheek, “why you still have this on? Take off.”

 Jackson showed himself prompt to comply, damp shirt nimbly falling somewhere on the wooden floor and basketball shorts following shortly after some wrestling between Jackson’s legs and the rubber waistband. Of course Mark has already seen Jackson’s body, hell he has even seen the guy naked as the day he was born since Mark’s been his main helper when it came to shaving intimate parts for some reason, but there was something else clicking in his head at that moment while he watched Jackson reclaim his position over the chest press machine’s pad. The strong lines which delineated his thorax and abdomen seemed more attenuated, the sheen of sweat corrupting the cleanness of his skin gave him a dizzying musky appeal, the way his biceps flexed as he supported his weight on his fierce arms made him look manlier; everything seemed overwhelming somehow so Mark breathed in and then exhaled shakily, sheer excitation pumping heavily down his cock. Jackson was awestruck gorgeous and attractive, Mark only hoped the former would come as to notice such thing himself one day too.

 Chest press machines are usually made to fit just one person on its properties, the pad narrow and the structure kinda limited since the aim was for whoever used it did so preferably into a lying position. Maybe that’s why Jackson had been finding it so uncomfortable and clumsy to fit himself over Mark again, going for settling himself down on his butt instead and pulling at the other’s legs as to pass them over his own and make those lean thighs rest above his strong ones. Mark yelped when the movement caused Jackson’s clothed crotch to rub against the crack between his splayed open legs and he instantly held onto the bars above his head as to feign to himself some balance from the spinning world. The newly asserted position was _pretty_ _good_ , though; way better than the previous one actually, since now Mark would jolt in ecstasy whenever Jackson bent forward to slide their lips together and their hips automatically aligned. Abstract patterns emerged on Jackson’s broad back in thin, fading in lines of red in the step Mark kept scraping his nails over it, too lost in arousal to hold in some lewd moans when Jackson grinded down on him.

“I really want to suck you off but you must be really gross after working out the whole day without showering,” Jackson panted against a specific spot over Mark’s chin even though his hand still traveled down to slip inside the tight pair of black boxers that separated their heated skins and fingers started feeling around the warm space almost automatically.  Blink after blink Mark tried to keep up with what was happening —or even react to the clear teasing Jackson was blowing against his glowing skin— but fuck, _Jackson’s hand was_ _so_ _close_ , “sweaty, sweaty, sweaty. I’m kinda curious ‘bout how you taste like this, though. I have my toothbrush on my backpack anyway.”

 Mark gasped softly when that experimenting touch reached his dick and it throbbed at the contact, narrow hips bucking up rather unconsciously but provoking the same shit-eating grin to rise onto Jackson’s amazed spit-slicked lips. It was hot, the touch between Jackson’s palm and his bare skin; Mark mildly appreciated the wicked electricity which erupted from it for long blurry minutes before his mind fell into a hazy due to the sudden wetness enveloping the very head of his dick. Alerted and way more conscious of himself Mark looked down, the air being punched out of his chest as he watched Jackson leaned over him (in what looked like to be a pretty uncomfortable crouching position) with his cock slipping inside the heat of that rosy mouth. And the most surprising thought Mark had at that moment was how the hell did Jackson rattled his way down and pulled the tip of Mark’s shaft out of his sheltering underwear without him even noticing it. Maybe he’d been too engrossed absorbing all the good feelings he was having to actually become fully aware of Jackson’s slyness in the end. Whatever, Mark was paying _a lot_ of attention to it now.

  _A cat licking its milk_. That’s how Mark would firstly describe the view of Jackson going down on him, as kinky and perverted as it may sounded. It’s strangely funny how Mark’s brain functioned in those kinds of situations, he’s well aware of it now and he’s even more aware of the fact that he’d end up having some shameful memories about his own thoughts when recalling this all later, but truth was, Mark wasn’t giving a damn about that right now. Not when Jackson was so eagerly licking him off as though he were the most delicious popsicle invented.

 Mark nodded shakily in encouragement when Jackson looked up at him through half lidded eyes, and his hand dithered before reaching out to card through those greasy strands of yellow hair a moment later, unsure of whether it’d be okay for him to guide the other’s movements further down or if should he just wait for Jackson’s own rhythm. Apparently Jackson didn’t mind being manhandled, or so that’s what Mark assumed from the way the younger man practically purred when the grasp of trembling fingers on his hair tightened and pressed down. Mark’s head dropped back when he felt Jackson’s cheeks hollowing and tongue swirling as he swallowed around his girth, missing by not much a painful collision with the steely sticks of the machine behind his back as he did so. One of his hands was still attached to the bar above his head, knuckles white and palm sweaty around the warming up material due to the excessive strength with which Mark was holding himself onto it, and so Mark used from the angle his bent arm created to hide his face against it, forehead resting over one shoulder and labored breathing ghosting across his biceps.

 The maddening pleasure caused by Jackson’s tongue lapping at the slit of Mark’s length was becoming too much for him to handle, his stomach thumping heavily with burning desire as he shook in ecstasy, and he must have shrunk back sometime in between because now Jackson was cupping at his buttocks through the straining boxers crumpled around his thighs to yank him closer, jaw relaxing to bear the prospect of Mark’s dick hitting the end of his throat with the change of angle. Mark nearly cried at the startling tightness engulfing the tip of his cock and so his body seemed to shrink one more time, desperate to get away from that sweet torture and seek out some release at last, once again being denied doing so by Jackson snaking his arm around Mark’s waist and holding him still. Gasping, nearly choking out for air, Mark squirmed in place with a deep furrow adorning his features and renewed sweat dotting at his hairline.

“S’too much?,” Jackson’s voice was so hoarse after releasing Mark’s shaft with a lewd sound, it was so raspy and deep, and the thought that it was caused by the constant abuse of Mark’s dick grazing at the back of his throat only made the aforementioned guy whimper slightly as arousal shook his nervous system, a weak nod leading his head to move. An amazed chuckle later and then Jackson was back again at firmly pumping Mark’s dick with his hand turned into a fist, strangled noises slowly rumbling from Mark’s chest one more time, “you look so beautiful like this, Mark. You really do, I’m not just saying it.”

“Please,” Mark sobbed, hand disentangling from Jackson’s hair to slid down the man’s nape and clutch at the base of one shoulder when Jackson dived in again, just as though his mind would stop spinning around if he did so. The pair of beautifully darkened eyes Mark came to love more and more by each day rose from where they were blurrily fixed and pierced him with a strikingly handsome stare, an almost defiant kind of one, Mark momentarily getting tongue-tied as his own eyes flickered between those dark pearls and that impossibly reddened mouth stretched around his dick. Bobbing his head up and down shallowly with his wrist angling as fisting the half which didn’t fit into his mouth and saliva running down the corners of his soft lips to trail a glimmer path down the shaft and over the back of his hand, Jackson hummed around Mark wantonly before sucking the foreskin impossibly harder and pulling away with a wet pop. Mark cursed between a broken moan, lunging out a pant just as he found his own voice again, “ _Please_. M’tired of waiting.”

“Someone is so eager,” Jackson crooned teasingly before having his upper arm slapped in reprehension, the sharp sound of it unhelpfully fading in the background of Jackson’s throaty snicker. “Ooh, and is quite aggressive too. Do you also happen to have a spank kink or…?”

“Jackson, I swear to God—” the warning died in Mark’s throat when he felt Jackson’s thumb rubbing circles where he got a hold on the underside of his dick and letting it go to peel his boxers the rest of the way down and discharge it on the floor along with his own briefs, probably forming a heap of clothes in there since all their garments had been thrown in the same direction. His eyes preyed Jackson’s movements as the man climbed onto the narrow pad to hover over him and slowly leaned down to hump them together, the sensation of skin against skin proving to be irrevocably better than when done through clothes. And Jackson’s skin was so hot, damn it was so deliciously _hot_ it felt like he’s caught a fever and Mark was being contaminated by it, every single corner of his body burning as though he’s been set on fire.

 It was when bold fingers traveled down to poke at his entrance that Mark got distracted from his thoughts about how arousing Jackson’s cock rutting against his own was, mind idly going blank as fingertips circled the ring of muscles very subtly in what felt like some damned tease only to make it stir and clench around air in anticipation. The touch was gentle just as it was eager, borderline curious and full of intent. A rush of heat pumped low on Mark’s stomach, shooting straight to his leaking shaft as he felt Jackson’s middle finger pressing inside, and his arms went up to clung around the other’s shoulder as tightly as he could as though this would make the stinging pain to ease. Jackson was sucking marks on his collarbone, trying to distract him from the rawness of that intrusion, but Mark could barely focus on it as much as he tried to do otherwise. It was shallow, those careful thrusts of fingers inside of him, and Jackson was still only feeling around while breathing sharply at how tight and warm and good it felt, but the lack of some kind of lube did much difference for Mark and was being dearly missed.

“You got lube?,” Mark breathed after a few moments trying to hold himself back, hips unconsciously stuttering as to get rid of the foreign finger grazing inside his inner walls, not because he didn’t like the full feeling it gave while there but because the burn caused by the lack of lube was turning things quite difficult to deal with.

“I don’t…” Jackson’s voice reached the junction between Mark’s neck and collarbone when he trailed off, hot breath dampening the flushed skin and sending shivers down Mark’s spine. He supported himself over an arm and leaned back to look down at Mark almost nervously and restless at the brought up of matter, and Mark couldn’t help throwing his head slightly back to free a groan from his throat in mild frustration. This time Jackson looked guilty and defensive as he shifted, eyes resembling the ones of a puppy who knew it had screwed something up even though the fault was at nobody’s. “It’s not like I carry it around on my pocket or something. How’d I know we’d be… _needing_ it?”

“Right,” silence stretched between them and it was heavy, borderline dull and still charged from the sexual tension building up in there. Musk was what the air smelled of, strong and sharp and tangy, and as Mark inhaled it through labored pants and soft gasps while watching a bead of sweat gleefully rolling down the sides of Jackson’s features, he realized how intoxicating and poisoning it indeed was. It smelled like sex, pure and rough sex, and Mark had to bite down onto his lower lip not to let out a needy wail at how painfully pulsing his dick was due to that. Mark was still so horny just by smelling the sinful fragrance Jackson and him were producing that he was even considering forgetting about the fucking lube and just getting it on. Consequences be damned.

“Oh, wait, I guess there’s a bottle of body oil in those drawers,” Jackson suddenly exclaimed when Mark was just about to rock his lips into his fingers once again, both of them stilling as those words sank in and Jackson looked as though he’d found cold water in the scalding desert. “Wanna try?”

“You ain’t lubing me up with some freaking body oil. It looks so… anti-hygienic.”

“S’better than nothing, dickhead. And it’s quite exotic, I’ve seen it in movies.”

 Mark raised his eyebrows at that, mockery tainting his countenance as he watched Jackson pulling away from him and swiftly hoping off the pad to reach the nearby chest of drawers and rummage through the drawers it housed. The view of Jackson’s bare back glimmering under the fluorescent light of the gym was simply glorious. Mark watched in anticipation the way his back muscles flexed every time he moved around and it didn’t last long for Mark to change focus and stare mesmerized at the sharp dimples on Jackson’s lower back, adorning the expanse of his narrow hips right above the curve of his firm ass. Damn it if that weren’t the most enticing ass Mark has ever seen. Not that he’s seen any out of the ones in porn movies anyway, but Jackson’s was the best. Firm and round and squeezable and hot. Definitely the best, yes.

 When Jackson found the small bottle of body oil in the fourth drawer Mark was already on his feet, creeping behind the smaller man and peeking over his shoulder, the damp gusts of his breath tickling the sides of Jackson’s right ear as he leaned in. For a moment Jackson stirred and Mark actually _moaned_ at the sight of Jackson’s ass cheeks unconsciously contracting as in an involuntary reflex, caused by either anticipation or sheer surprise regarding the sudden addition of warmness behind him Mark couldn’t tell. Yet he found it arousing somehow, disperse mind running miles per minute and wondering if those cheeks would be doing the same twitching thing as Jackson worked his hips up to thrust deep inside of him. That thought was really something and Mark wisely chose to file it away and properly think about it later since now he was being once again distracted by Jackson turning around and shifting impossibly closer and whatever thought he may have running on his brain right now would soon be vanished when Jackson finally put their bodies into motion. And Jackson did, two seconds later, by using his free arm to encircle Mark’s waist and pull him flush against himself, approving groans from how their crotches adorably rubbed together being muffled by their intercalated lips. Next thing Mark knew was the uncomfortable pain of his back being shoved against a wall. Luckily Jackson was attached to his limps a moment later to distract him from the ache with languid caresses of tongue on his chest.

 Mark had his hand firmly grounded on Jackson’s disheveled hair when he felt a mouth latching onto his nipple and a hand dipping south on his body to stop at the underside of his ass curve, a breathless yelp leaving his parted lips when his body was suddenly jerked and lifted up. There were a couple of shelves hanging there in the wall, one of them carrying the water bottle Mark had been drinking from ever since they first started working out that evening, and it really wasn’t a surprise when Mark hit his shoulder under the support of them and caused several things to fall from it due to the brisk impact, the water bottle greeting the ground with a thud and rolling a few centimeters over it until it stopped by a corner of the room. Jackson didn’t seem to mind the ruckus from things falling beside them and so Mark decided that yeah he shouldn’t worry too much about that as well since his nipple was being nibbled and teasingly pulled by rows of white teeth right now.

“Jackson…” there was a pant and then a soft cry of pleasure, Mark wrapping his legs around Jackson’s torso rather clumsy as his head knocked back on the wall when Jackson adjusted his grip on Mark’s thighs to align their hips and hump them sloppily before he repositioned himself lower to brush against the rim. Mark panted, glassy eyes searching for that expressive pair of hazel ones which always succeed on causing so many emotions on him without much —or even any— effort and brightening up when they finally met, a shaking nod of permission being the most Mark managed to do when Jackson slowly raised his head and looked at him with hints of hungriness smudging his blown up pupils.

 One of Mark’s hands went to grab the edge of a shelf as to keep his balance and another hugged Jackson’s shoulders tightly just to make sure he wasn’t going to fall midst the whole act. He wasn’t sure if his hold onto the shelf had been a good choice because his arm got stuck in a very weird and uncomfortable angle when he did so, but before he could think of another place to hold himself onto a sharp pain shoot across his bottom and up his spine as though in a reverberating echo of intense thrill, his mind blackening out only to come back in a spiral of blazing bright colors that flicked behind his shut close eyes. Air seemed to have been punched out of his lungs and so Mark gasped, mouth going ajar in a mute exclamation as he tried to bear the strong cocktail of sensations he felt while Jackson pressed in.

 Of fucking damn course it hurt. Mark has never ever tried more than two fingers inside when he jerked himself off so it was plainly understandable it would hurt like hell to take Jackson’s size without much foreplay. At least it didn’t feel as raw as it has felt when Jackson first tried fingering him moments ago, the shitty body oil proving to be way more efficient than Mark could ever hope it to be. Mark didn’t really see Jackson lubing himself up with the oil before he actually went in, well excuse him if he was _too busy_ focusing on how good it felt to be pressed that close against the sweaty brick wall that was Jackson’s chest, but the slick feel between his ass cheeks as Jackson’s dick slid in and out of him was enough for him to do some coherent assumptions. Not that Mark could in fact be all that coherent with a cock stuck up his ass.

 The rhythm had been set as smooth at first, Jackson’s ragged breathing cooling Mark’s sweat and sending shivers down his skin until his whole body shook with want as they moved together through small, controlled thrusts. Jackson muscles trembled under Mark’s fierce grasp on his shoulder and Mark knew it was because the younger was holding himself back with so much effort that his body weaved, overwhelmed. The thought of Jackson being so careful of him even though in a moment like that got Mark’s heart clutching inside his ribcage, not because he’s ever doubted Jackson would deprive himself from freely moving only to grant Mark some time to adjust and enjoy that experience just as much, but because he knew exactly this was how things were going to be and the confirmation of his predictions only caused his feelings for the other to increase. He knew Jackson way too much. He wondered if that was whether a good thing.

 It still stung a bit, and Mark did hiss sometimes —mostly whenever Jackson pressed too deep or too hard in one go—, but waves of pleasure were soon overcoming the pain as they bumped together, the pace increasing as soon as Jackson noticed Mark loosing up and bouncing down to meet his thrust avidly. As Mark panted into Jackson’s space with his mouth hanging open and lips brushing wetly against one sharp cheekbone he decided that _yeah_ , his hold onto the shelf hadn’t been a good choice since the angle was horrible and his arm hurt as hell at each bounce it had to take from Mark’s body, and so his hand let go of it to sweep in and clutch tightly at the back of Jackson’s neck, fingertips grazing on the shortcuts of hair dusting from his nape.

“Fuck, Mark—” Jackson groaned hoarsely and his hips snapped up in a violent shove, dick pulsing hard from the way Mark kept clenching his inner walls around him at each push, not that Jackson truly believed the older was doing that on purpose though. A breathy moan was everything Mark replied him with, besides promptly rolling his hips down as to deepen that fullness sensation inside him, because that’s just how Mark was feeling at the moment: dizzying, euphorically, marvelously _full_. And he couldn’t help relishing at that feeling even though his bare back already hurt from all the bumping and scratchy friction it had against the rough surface of the wall. Spasms of arousal shook his limbs and heat pooled at his stomach as Jackson fucked harder into him, thrusts following a dense and irrevocably deep, maddening pace that got Mark squirming in overwhelming pleasure every time he felt the slickness of both the body oil and Jackson’s pre-cum easing the slide.

 They were both breathless when Jackson tightened his hold under Mark’s thighs and shifted, pushing further as Mark rode him rather unsteadily but anyway fiercely, and then Mark was gritting his teeth, mind going numb with how deadly straight Jackson had managed to hit his sweet spot once and was actually succeeding on keeping doing so over and over again. The display of strength Jackson effortlessly presented as carrying Mark weight on his arms and even prompting him up and down on his shaft in pushing up movements was a seriously turn on as well, it showed him off as manly as it was allowed, and Mark profoundly wanted to have had some time to admire it properly without getting his brain blackening in and out due to his prostate being harshly brushed as he tried doing so. Mark wasn’t complaining, though. He could perfectly focus on it next time.

 Next time. The thought felt good even though Mark wasn’t so sure about such thing as next times. He was still having mental problems to accept that _this_ time was in fact happening so it’d be asking too much of him to imagine that farther. Nevertheless, the thought felt _really_ good.

 It was easy to know that Jackson was getting closer to his climax because, when he did, his thrusts would become as shaky and erratic as his own labored breathing and the profanities which kept leaving his mouth in an inconstant flow of incoherent curses would give place to low grunts and shallow gasps for air. And since he was doing it right now, hands marking the shape of his fingers red over the fair skin of those lean thighs he still kept a strong grip onto, Mark had an inkling that Jackson would reach there pretty soon and so did his best on moaning filthiness against his earlobe between teasing bites and sucks. The sinful symphony derived from the nearly desperate and borderline furious crash of their dripping wet bodies filled the air; skin slapping skin and somewhat sloppy thuds of shoulder blades bumping against the wall as they moved in despair. However, Jackson’s guttural noises of delight could still be heard throughout it all and Mark trusted his sanity into it as his eyes closed and he hugged the smaller man even tighter. He was so close he could feel his stomach churning and toes curling.

“I’m almost—don’t,” Mark swiftly pushed away the hand Jackson had going in between them  as soon as he heard Mark’s rough warning, recently moistened lips pursing when he perceived the slight hurt look on Jackson’s heavy eyes at the rejection. As the hand which had been placed steadily on Jackson’s nape let go to skirt the skin and cup a cheek, Mark furrowed and blinked a few times tightly to pry away the blur from his vision, a lazy smile then stretching his lips as he regarded Jackson’s features with probably more adore than he firstly intended to show, “I wanna come just by feeling you inside me… no—no further stimulations, ‘kay? Just you filling me up, just you, just you, just you,” he kept mumbling over and over with their stares locked as though it’s his mantra and he depended on it to live, eyes wavering and clouded with desire and seemingly in a haze. Jackson’s countenance brightening up in what looked like the born of a sunrise was everything Mark needed to know he had understood and even though the burn spreading up his bottom was enough to make him flinch, there was a lively grin adorning his mouth when Jackson picked up his pace one more time. A few more thrusts later and Jackson was emptying himself inside Mark, the latter groaning and following him suit in an equally mind-blowing orgasm after hearing the ecstatic moan of a blissed out Jackson reverberate through their chests and feeling the warm liquid painting his walls.

 Static rang in Mark’s ears as he dropped his head to cradle between Jackson’s neck and shoulder, nose nuzzling the base where the other man’s collarbone raised and lowered with each heave of deep breath from his chest. They were both out of it, stuck in the bliss their releases had brought them. Jackson was now pressed flush against Mark, body slumped over and compressing Mark’s slim frame against the wall, but even though it kind of hurt a little Mark couldn’t find it in himself to complain or be displeased by it. He liked to be that close to Jackson. The natural smell only Jackson produced reaching his nostrils and proving to be unhealthily vicious and heavenly soothing at the same time. Mark really liked that.

“Mark.” Jackson whispered but it was mostly to feel the name rolling off of his tongue and have a tasty of it than anything else, and Mark simply nuzzled himself further into the dirty warmth proportioned from his neck in response. They stayed like that for whoever knows how much time, only breathing into each other’s space and relishing the unsteady beats of their hearts echoing through their pressed chests. Mark absently thanked the fact they had had the decency and good sense to rent the whole gym only for their classes ever since the beginning and so no one could’ve walked up on them during their banging sex on the wall. It was a relief; things would’ve gotten really complicated if they were caught. That possibility of them being caught would actually lead up to that fearful subject Mark has been hosting ever since he developed feelings for Jackson —that whole rant about group dynamic and group harmony he’s already tired of taking into consideration—, but said subject was the very one he didn’t want to think about now, not when he was feeling so light entangled in Jackson’s limbs.

 But the bitch was automatic crawling into his brain and haunting his thoughts the minute he merely considered the approach of it, so when Jackson pulled away from him, still crowding him against the wall with both hands going to rest by the sides of his hips over the surface, the first thing that passed through his filter before he could rethink it was a low mumble carried by uncertainty and insecurity that surprisingly got Jackson’s attention right away. “How things escalated so quickly in a day? We were friends in the morning and now we are…,” a frown wrinkled his forehead as words failed him and he looked away from those studying eyes that now seemed to burn a whole on his face as trying to comprehend what he was struggling to say.

“Now we are still friends, Mark,” Jackson completed softly when the pause Mark settled in between had stretched itself way too far, way too much for his liking, “we’re still friends and if it depends on me, we’ll always be. The difference is that now we’re not _just_ friends anymore, but friends and…”

“And…?”

“And… you see, saying we’re boyfriends would sound a bit too dreamful, I think, ‘cause we wouldn’t be able to do all those things boyfriends do like— like walking hand in hand across the park on a Sunday afternoon or going out on dates and this stuff. We have to be careful, our jobs require it from us, but— you understand what I’m saying, don’t you? We’re… _together_.”

 Mark’s heart has stopped working properly somewhere along the speech Jackson was cornering him with, and there was a point he had to sigh deeply as not to cry in relief and happiness and misfortune. Of course they couldn’t be labeled as boyfriends, Mark didn’t even pipe up such dreams anymore, and having Jackson thinking the same way was somewhat reassuring and calming since now Mark felt as though he’s been right in his thinking all along. But he didn’t hope for Jackson to say something like that afterwards, something like they being ‘together’ and it carrying such a real meaning of deeper and stronger range and proportions. Mark didn’t think Jackson would be of same opinion as him, didn’t think they could be in such syntony as to do so. Didn’t think he had such deep feelings towards him, towards them. Happy wasn’t the word to describe how Mark was feeling when Jackson smiled at him and his body prickled from head to toes, that smile proving to be able to light up even the densest darkness; hopeful it was. Hopeful, deeply so.

“So…,” Mark trailed off then while fiddling with his fingers, mildly aware of their state of nudeness but not as much as to do something about it, “what about the group? I mean, I don’t think the guys will be opposite to it if we ever come to tell them about this, but… things will change, won’t they? What about the dynamic? What if—”

“Mark, we’ll make it work.” The tone of Jackson’s voice was resolute and the glint on his eyes was one of determination as he reached out to take hold of Mark’s fingers and envelope them with his own. There still was cum drying on Mark’s lower stomach and some sliding coldly between his thighs as a reminder of what they have done, and Jackson actually seemed to find some amusement and self-pride at it since he watched some dribbles rolling down Mark’s skin under a heated stare. Mark knew he looked gross with all that fucking cum all over his lower half, but as Jackson kept looking at him with so much adore shining on his eyes, he almost dared to consider the possibility of him looking beautiful. “You’ll see, everything will be alright and we’re gonna make this work. This is a promise.” Jackson then stuck his pinky out and entangled Mark’s own with his, sealing a promise Mark truly wanted them to keep. Yes, he wanted whatever they had to work, too. With all his might, he wanted it to work out.

 Mark hoped his eyes succeed to transmit all the love he felt towards Jackson as they stared back and forth with smiles plastered on their lips because at that moment his feelings were undeniably glowing. With one endearing peck over the top of Mark’s nose, Jackson stepped back and giggled at how Mark scrunched up his nose in a grimace as though finding that either too cheesy or maybe too gross to deal with, the loving smile which tried to pull at his lips delating how it was, if fact, neither of them.

“I guess I have to say sorry to you by now,” it was after they both had walked to the narrow bench-like chairs lined up in a corner of the room with those previously discharged clothes in hands and wet towels lying close as to clean themselves up the most they could before dressing up again that Jackson spoke, mirth dripping from his words and a smirk stretching one corner of his still swelled lips. Mark had finished cleaning the mess off of his body when he looked at the other with one eyebrow raised in question, and Jackson couldn’t help chuckling to himself as he slipped one leg after another inside his boxers and stood up. “You said earlier you didn’t want to go all sore to the broadcast tomorrow and now you’re even limping. My bad.”

 Yes, Mark was limping when he detached himself from the wall and walked the few steps towards their current seat and yes, he was all sore and sensitive due their hot session in the gym. But that didn’t stop him from catching a stray sock from the floor and throwing it on Jackson’s direction as though it was a hard rock instead of some fluffy ball of cotton. Jackson’s screechy laugh echoed through the room and Mark thought he could really get used to that thing they were prompting themselves to make work. Those bad jokes about soreness and further sexual related things would grant Jackson some punches in the ribs, though. Mark just hoped the jerk wouldn’t blurt them out in front of the other guys before they dropped the bomb about the upgrade on Jackson and Mark’s relationship; it’d be really hard to explain why Jackson looked so proud every time Mark hissed before sitting then.

 

 


End file.
